Steel
by BookishMe
Summary: I have to fight, and the old Lena doesn't fight. I have to kill, and the old Lena doesn't either. But I'm not her. I am a different person. I am resurrected from almost nothing, from battles, from smoke, from fire.
1. Chapter 1

I crouch low behind the shadows of the bushes I chose to conceal me. The bushes smell faintly of urine and dried leaves. My feet step on a few, a confirmation. I try to breathe through my mouth, but it is hard. I'm not really used to it, though saying that in front of Raven and the others will send them laughing.

_You, Lena? You've been in the Wilds for so long now_, they will say with several hoots and nudges.

I almost laugh. But I keep it down under my throat. I can't afford getting busted by these…people-whoever they are.

"I thought I saw someone," a male voice calls, disturbing the eerie silence of the night. I try to look around, perhaps to catch a brief glimpse of the enemy, but he's too far away, still out of my sight.

I hear the sound of a gun making contact with wood. "Oh yeah, Robert? Last night you thought you saw one, and guess what it was-a mighty raccoon!"

I hear a few hints of teasing. I hope they're drunk. I really hope so. Injuring them will be so much easier and faster if they are. I breathe through my mouth again. These are two men. I don't know what they are: regulators or Scavengers? If they are regulators, my job will be easier than if they're the latter. Scavengers kill ruthlessly, without any reason. If you're not one of them, you're out. The regulators are not that different, but they're easier to handle.

"This time, Oscar. I promise," Robert argues.

Their footsteps are closer now. I hold my breath. I unclasp a knife from my tool belt. I grip it in my hand, turning it under the moonlight. Its silver blade seems to glow. It's one of Raven's best weapons, and she gave it to me to save Julian.

I catch my breath. Julian. Julian Fineman. His family name makes him less welcome to the homestead than most newcomers. But I think he proved himself worthy of their hospitality when he almost offered his life to save Bram. Almost. He was caught instead of…killed. My breath catches again at the word.

I prodded Raven to let me save him. I didn't bother with asking her to send the whole team off running after Julian's trails; that will be suicide. Raven won't allow anything like that. So instead I urged her to let _me_, and me alone, to save the guy's life.

"No, Lena. It's far too dangerous," she had said. The memory begins to trickle softly into my brain.

"I don't care right now, Raven. Julian is out there, without help or anything. You know he can't fend for himself perfectly," I had argued.

She didn't answer me. She kept her back to me, busying herself with cooking supper over low fire. Her hair had been blowing with the soft wind that night. I knew better than to urge her into speaking. I just waited.

After what had seemed like forever, she said, "Alright, Lena. But I insist on giving you spare food and supplies."

I had almost tackled her to the ground with delight. "Thanks, Raven!"

She squeezed out of my hug gently and grabbed something from the pocket of her vest. She handed it to me. It was her knife. "Take care of that," she said sternly. The moonlight made her eyes shine with dangerous ferocity. "I expect to have it back, Lena."

I had turned away from her. The message underneath her words was obvious. I should come back. Alive.

"Alive," I whisper as I grip the knife harder, my knuckles turning white. "I should come back…with Julian," I add, smiling cruelly. I'm determined to fulfill that secret promise. If it comes to killing these men, I will.

The men are visible now. I take a grateful breath, making my mind less fuzzier. They are regulators. Easy.

"Where did you see him?" Oscar (I identified him through his croaky voice) asks.

Robert chuckles lowly. "Not a 'him'. A 'her'."

I see Oscar raise an eyebrow, looking around. "Brave girl."

A sudden thought occurs to me. I can just let them pass. They don't have to know that I'm here, hiding. They don't have to know that I'm a ravage beast, waiting to take the lives out of their bodies. No, they don't have to.

"She probably left," Oscar says. "She's alone, isn't she? She's scared of us."

I grit my teeth. How can they even assume I'm afraid? They're too full of themselves. I just hate them.

_Regulators. Regulators…They took Julian…took him away from you…_

My mind is screaming. The words repeat themselves over and over, echoing…bouncing from one wall of my brain to another. Anger boils inside me. Sweat starts to prickle my forehead. I grip the knife much harder; my knuckles turn _much_ whiter.

How can I let them pass unharmed? After all, _they_ harmed Julian.

My body shudders. I pick up a handful of soil and squeeze them, trying desperately to keep my anger down. I might do something unruly if I let it go wild.

The regulators' voices fade as they trudge down farther into the dark. They didn't even bother to check behind the growth of plants. Reckless.

I stretch to see more of them. Once they're completely gone, I run. I run back to my tent two hundred yards away. I pause to rest once, then run again.

I reach the comfort of my tent and settle inside. I return Raven's knife to my tool belt, feeling its hilt make contact with a small exposed skin on my stomach. I breathe in and out, the small leftovers of the anger I felt a while ago still running through the contours of my body. I still tremble.

I reach for my backpack and open it. I grab my bottle of water. It's mostly full, thanks to a stream I found earlier in the morning. I refilled my three bottles immediately after I took a bath.

I dig deeper into my backpack to search for food. I still have enough to last for three days and nights in the Wilds. I'm hoping to get to Portland by tomorrow, then the next hours will be for travelling toward a homestead in Connecticut. It will prove hard, especially if Julian is injured. Dragging him along will serve as a challenge. But no matter, as long as he's with me.

I fight my hunger. I must preserve what I currently have. This food won't be enough once I rescue Julian. He's going to need many.

"Focus, Lena," I mutter as I lay on my cot. It is a little cold, and I fight to keep it warm.

A memory, too, fights its way to me. I try to wrestle it back, but it's stronger than me. I seem to drop into cold water, fully submerged. The memory waves its way to me, curling around my feet first, then my legs, my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I can't hold it any longer. I can't breathe. I can't…

_"What are you doing?" I ask with a smile. Alex is lying on my makeshift bed, rolling around._

_ He freezes and laughs at me. "I'm trying to keep it warm."_

_ I punch him softly on his chest, though I think it hurt my hand more than it did him. "It's okay now. I'm here. You may go back to yours and keep _it_ warm." I laugh._

_ We sneaked our way out to meet in 37 Brooks. The night's cold, and I can't help shivering on my cot. Alex had returned regretfully to his, and I am now wishing for his arms around me, for any possible source of heat. I hug myself. It will probably give me away, but I don't care. I'm slowly freezing. Where are the blankets?_

_ "Hey, Lena," Alex calls out, a smirk in his voice. "Cold?"_

_ I turn on my side to look at him. He's standing by his bed, observing me. "Well…" I mutter._

_ He laughs. His laugh itself makes me feel warmer. "I'm going there," he announces, working his way back to my cot._

_ I reach out a hand, as if it can stop him. I'm laughing, too. "Stay _there_."_

_ He makes a face with mock pity. "But Lena, you're cold."_

_ "You stop right there!" I scream. He's almost beside me. He jumps and lands next to me, pinning me down. "Alex!" I exclaim, laughing._

_ "I don't want you to freeze," he says. For a moment he's serious, then his face erupts into laughter again. "I'm gonna keep you warm, don't worry."_

_ I tickle him gently. He laughs once again and goes down to lie beside me. "Thank you," I whisper, hugging him to me._

_ "You don't need to tell me what you need," Alex whispers back. His face is half-lit by the moonlight creeping in from the window above our heads. He looks like an angel._

_ He tilts my chin up and meets my gaze. I am falling…falling into those eyes…_

_ He kisses me softly. He pulls back to look at me again, then he kisses me, more urgent now._

_ "Hey," I say when he pulls back one more time._

_ He smiles at me. "Why?"_

_ "It's warm already," I say, giggling._

_ "You want me to go back?" Alex offers, already moving away. His eyes betray his open gesture though. He obviously wants to stay._

_ I grasp his arm and pull him back. "Just rest with me here." It sounds like an order to me._

_ Alex grins and lies back. He keeps an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. "Sleep now, Lena." He starts humming a song I don't recognize._

_ I sleep._

Once the memory's gone, tears start falling. I try my best to will them back, but they don't. They just fall down and nothing's stopping them.

"Alex," I whisper. My voice is muffled. I'm speaking directly into my cot, wetting it with my tears. I clench my hands into fists and pound them on it. It hurts, but nothing can hurt me now more than Alex's loss. With Julian missing, memories of him are more frequent. They seem to be pounding on the walls I had built, the walls I had been trying to keep intact over the past few months, but they keep going on. The walls are nothing but rubble now, and the memories are slowly eating me from inside. They still try to make me feel…what, exactly? Sad over losing him? Anger because I didn't even try to save him? Remorse because, here I am in a tent, while he's somewhere not safe?

I gulp and sob more, making a mess of my shirt. "Alex, come back," I mutter faintly. "Alex…please."

I know I'm just trying to make myself believe that he's still alive. I know that now. But I can't avoid it. Every time I tell myself to move on…to forget him, hope starts to build up. That hope whispers in my head to be strong and wait for his return. But when? And how?

He's dead. Dead, dead, dead. He's nothing but ashes. That's what he is.

Ashes.

Ashes. A phase one turns to when it isn't abundant of life-when Death comes to slowly eradicate it of everything.

_Alex. Ash. Alex. Gone. Alex. Dead._

That's my mantra. I repeat the words aloud, forcing myself to believe them. What can I believe but that, anyway? It's better to stay like this, rather than hope for something that's never going to happen. Hoping only makes a person vulnerable to the terrifying truth. Hoping only makes one weaker. But if you move on, you get stronger. Sure, it hurts. It always does. But it's better than watching yourself crumble to dust once you learn that _hope_ won't do any good.

"The past is dead," Raven has always said.

I'm clinging to that now. I am entrusting my future to that sentence…to that cluster of words mixed around to form one strong army that will help me fight the tragic memories of the past.

"Get a grip, Lena. Get a stupid grip," I mumble, cutting off the messy relationship my face has made with the lifeless cot. "Control, control…"

I blink the tears away. It will be the last time I'm going to cry over the past. It will be the last time I'm going to cry for something found inside the walls that enclose Portland.

I am a warrior. I am nothing but steel; hard and cold, strong. I am an Invalid. I am the new Lena.

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping, as if singing an inside song.

I didn't dream last night, and it was a relief. Dreams bother me a lot. I don't know what dreams are. I don't know why people dream. But they terrify me.

I open my backpack again to take inventory. Everything I left there last night is still there. I sigh in relief. I grab a can of meatloaf and walk out of the tent. I stretch as long as I hit the grass. The sun is merely over the trees, so I guess it's early. I smile. This is better. I will be journeying to Portland an hour and a half after now. I'm going to eat and take a bath down by the stream again. I love it there.

I pick up some dried leaves and sticks for the fire. It isn't hard for me now, unlike before. I used to be a dreadful camper.

The fire is soon roaring wildly. I take off to grab the pan inside the tent. I lay it on the grates hanging above the fire. The heat will cook the meatloaf as soon as I squeezed them out onto the pan. I hold my knife steadily over the tin of the can. I open it with no difficulty.

"Food at last," I say with a sigh. Too soon and I am eating, sitting cross-legged on the grass. I had cooked the rice, too.

I finish my meal without a word, not even a glance around to check if someone's watching. I'm too hungry to care. I run back to the tent to drink from my bottled water, then out again to meet the sun head-on. Gripping the equipment I used for cooking and eating close to my chest, I run to the stream. I will wash them first, take a bath, then return.

I jump into the water, still holding the equipment. The water reaches only up to my chest. The cold is seizing me, as if whispering for me to merge with it, with the water itself. I would've done it if I could.

I wash the pan, plate, and grates in a flourish. I settle them on the bed of rocks a few feet away from where I'm going to bathe.

Then I plunge into the water with all my might.

I remember my first swim in the Wilds. I was with Raven then. We were supposed to gather water in buckets, but I was tempted. I felt unclean then, too. So filthy. So much like an Invalid. I guess I was just trying to make myself believe that I was still the old Lena. But it's hard. Too hard to believe.

I break the surface and gasp, savoring the morning air. I feel alive.

"Julian," I whisper. "Julian, Julian."

His name brings a wave of happiness to me. It makes me feel as if I can swim all the way from here to the stream's source. Julian makes me feel complete. And I'm going to save him.

The thought-saving Julian-is making me itchy, as if I'm wasting time having fun while he's in the Crypts. I let go of the sensation the water is giving me and head for the tools I left.

There's no time. I should get going.

Travelling is easier done in the morning. I can see every inch of the growth around me, the spurt of life. It's refreshing to my eyes. It gives me a sense of familiarity. This is my home; my new home.

Dragging along my bag and camping gear is as hard as can be. Several times I had to pause and lean on a nearby tree.

"Save Julian," I would always say, then I would continue.

I have to stay strong. The new Lena is steel. So I must be, too.

The forest unfolds as I walk and think simultaneously.

Flowers bloom as I think of the first kiss I had shared with Julian. Birds soar high above me as I think of the feel of his hand on mine, the feel of his body next to me.

The forest fights an invisible enemy as I fight to dampen my feelings for Alex. And yet, it's there. Growing more and more dangerous; growing into a beast I can never face.

I can see the walls now, in spite of the darkness. The walls that keep Portland safe. They loom over its people, keeping them in, keeping us out.

I can't avoid thinking of Grace, Aunt Carol, and Jenny as I walk back to the place where I had last seen _him_. How are they doing now? I can assume that they had been thrown away, out of the house, out of society. It makes me feel remorseful. They would've led a more comfortable life if I hadn't run away. But what about me? Would I let myself rot away encumbered in these massive walls, knowing that I had lost a great deal? No. I wouldn't.

Everything that happened was meant to happen.

I stop. Can I go over the walls again? I force myself to take a few more steps forward, if just to listen to its hums-if there are any.

There aren't.

My skills in climbing have improved a lot, thanks to Raven's insistent orders. I could've immediately started climbing the wall, but I know it's not yet time.

I have to wait for twenty, thirty minutes tops, before I can go over.

"Some resisters from Portland told me that those guards sleep by ten o'clock," Raven had informed me.

I must keep to the plan. That's how I'm going to work my way into Zombieland.

I sit on the ground, keeping a safe distance from the walls. They might hum with electricity anytime. Better play safe.

I am almost asleep when my mind screams, fiercely, _Get up!_

I do so and almost stagger. "Easy, easy," I mutter, looking at the ground to steady myself. Once alright, I look at the walls. They're barriers. I will tear through them if I have to. I will do anything to get to Julian. "Time to work."

I start climbing. I almost trip. The surface of the wall is slippery, as if it had been wetted by rain a few hours ago. But never mind that. I'm almost there.

I reach the top and quickly go down. I can't waste time at the top, where I am not hidden, where I'm vulnerable to anything and anyone.

I jump away from the wall, briefly pausing to search for guards. There aren't any. Raven's right.

"Reckless regulators. Stupid," I whisper, already starting to run away.

The Crypts is not so far from the walls, and that's a mistake. Can't the government be any smarter? They call themselves wise people; I call them garbage.

"Hey!" I hear a voice yell. My heart sputters, like a dying candle light.

I don't turn around. I just run. I grip the knife again. I'm going to need it soon. Very soon. "Damn it," I say under my breath.

The view of the Crypts is there now. I can almost imagine touching it, reaching it with my bare fingers, when a gunshot blows off. I almost trip over my own feet. This isn't like my past experiences with the Invalids. This is different. I'm alone now. I run faster, my legs pumping hard. "Go, go, go," I urge myself.

Then I reach it. The Crypts. I stay hidden in its shadows and feel the wall for a hole. An Invalid who had worked as a fake guard in Portland once told me that there is a hole here big enough for me to squeeze in. It isn't a surprise, really. I'm five feet, two inches tall. Entering won't be a problem.

"Come on, hole. Show yourself," I say at the exact moment my hand lands over a knob.

I inspect it under the light the stars provide. There is no moon now, for which I am both sad and grateful. The knob looks old. It seems different from other knobs, though. I quickly rotate it and…bam. A portion of the wall seems to roll back into itself. I fit exactly in the entryway. Once I'm inside, I turn another knob, blocking the sound of gunshots and voices from outside.

I make my way down the hall. It's old to me. It smells of rot, like dying animals. I cover my nose with the neckline of my shirt and take a breath. I must get out of this tunnel fast.

Suddenly, the tunnel breaks apart. I am in a laundry room, as far as I can tell. I can see the door. Clutching the knife, I lean in to listen to possible guards. Hearing none, I open it and sneak out, tiptoeing across the hallway. I feel exposed, raw. I don't like it a bit.

I walk quickly, almost blindly, along the prison cells. Almost every prisoner is asleep. My heart aches at the memory of the cell where my mother once stayed in. She got out through a tunnel she had made while etching the same word over and over on the prison wall: _Love_.

I turn a corner, my anxiety building up. How can I find Julian? The Crypts is huge. Weaving your way around this place is like weaving your way across a maze.

Then I spot him, lying on the floor, looking at the window barely above his head.

I run to his prison cell, ignoring the twists and turns of other prisoners as I pass by. It seems like hours before I finally reach him, my hands gripping the bars separating us. "Julian," I whisper, tears slowly falling down.

He stands up and looks at me. He looks lost for a moment, and I am afraid that he might have gone mad already. Then his lips break into a smile. His blue eyes-the color of the bright sky-lightens up, and I am once again lost in his beauty. "Lena," he croaks out, walking to me.

"Julian, you had me so worried," I say, crying silently. I feel his hands grip mine. I look at him.

"Lena, thank you. But…you could've gotten yourself-"

I shush him. "I'm getting you out."

He grins at me. "Obviously."

I grab a hair pin from my hair and start opening the lock with it. I have trouble for a while, but Julian's calm voice finally soothes me down. I manage it in a minute. I swing the metal gate open silently and he steps out. He instantly hugs me. His face is buried in my hair. I can tell that he's practically inhaling me.

"Thank you so much, Lena."

I can feel his heart beat against mine. Two hearts beating the same rhythm. "Anytime," I reply.

He let me go. He takes my hand in his and gives me one more smile. "We're going out, I hope? The others might wake up and…" His voice fades away.

I nod, still looking at him with awe. Finally. My Julian. "Of course. Come, I'm going to lead the way."

Julian Fineman. A boy I love. I am sure of that now more than ever.

I know that I can't really think of Julian without thinking of Alex, so slowly…carefully, I let him enter my thoughts.

Alex.

I have to try to face the fact that…that I still love him. But it's complicated. More than complicated, actually. Being in love with two guys at the same time is a feat. My heart is only one, and it cannot be divided in two, or else it will kill me. It's true. Maybe not literally, but true nonetheless.

_The past is dead._

I still believe in it. I still live by it.

Alex belongs to my past. So he is dead. Even if he's not, he is. I must keep telling myself that he is. Because if I don't, everything will fall apart: my relationship with Julian-whatever it is, my friendship with Raven and the others, my mission, myself.

I am alive, safe. That's what matters right now. I have to be selfish to survive.

I left the old Lena when I crossed the walls. I left her rotting there. Maybe…maybe someday I'll find her and bring her back to life.

But now…that's impossible. I have to fight, and the old Lena doesn't fight. I have to kill, and the old Lena doesn't either. But I'm not her. I am a different person. I am resurrected from almost nothing, from battles, from smoke, from fire.


	2. Words from the Author

Words from the Author

Hi there! I hope you enjoyed my story.

Sorry if its length irritates you. I just can't find it in myself to make it a multi-chaptered story when I didn't even plan its plot so much. .

Okay so…

I mentioned in the story that Julian had been to the Wilds even before Lena discovered that Alex is alive, right? Now, if you've read Pandemonium, you would've found it wrong. In the book, Lena and Alex meet first before their group ventures out into the Wilds (Julian included).

This is a "reversed portion" of the story. :)))

You might have noticed, by the way, that I used the present tense while narrating the story. I decided that if Lauren Oliver keeps the story that way, then I don't have any right to change it (you might have a different opinion regarding this). So I stuck to it.

I really enjoyed writing this story! It was so much fun focusing on Lena's views…so much fun watching her change and mourn altogether. I liked getting to feel how Lena does.

So anyway, thanks for reading _Steel_! :D


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